


A Desert's Dream

by Odin16immortal



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-08-06 03:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16380437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odin16immortal/pseuds/Odin16immortal
Summary: Jyn Erso and Saw Gerrera are on a dangerous mission to make a risky arms deal with Jabba the Hutt. Jyn deals with tensions between her own convictions and Saw's wrathful ambitions while desperately trying to keep both of them from dying. On the other hand, she finds herself fascinated by Jabba the Hutt's favorite slave who is not exactly as he appears.





	1. The Meeting

Jyn fingers another kabob. She doesn’t particularly like it. The meat is too smothered in sauce to actually enjoy the flavor. Saw eats even less than her. His eyes scan the room looking past corrupt Republic politicians, shiftless pirates, black market tycoons, and greedy imperial officers. She knows whom he is looking for. Jabba The Hutt, the most renowned crime lord on this dark side of the galaxy, and possibly a boon for their rebellion. 

Jyn takes a sip of the wine. It’s too fruity and sweet causing her to blanch a bit. A reptilian slave girl, takes the glass from her.

“Thank you.” Jyn mutters. The young one’s eyes widen into big yellow orbs. Trembling the child shakes her head and hands her a glass of another expensive alcohol. She hurries to the next table the jangling of her chains are a constant shadow to her footsteps. 

“I don’t like this,” Jyn admits. Saw nods in acknowledgement. His eyes are lined with a seething disgust that’s only visible to those who know him.

“This!” She gestures to their surroundings. “This decadence is built on the lives, blood, and freedom of sentient being. Is this not everything you taught me to despise?” 

Saw closes his eyes. He nods his head to the rhythm the band strikes up. Each note is vast and melodic on the air. You can almost imagine the musicians enjoy their craft but the collars on their neck is a stark contrast to the jubilance of their sound. 

“Sometimes to destroy a system you must use its own tools to tear it down.” Saw mutters into his glass before taking a swig. Jyn frowns. 

“No revolution was built on purity,my child.” Saw states once he takes in the furrowing of her brows. Jyn bites her lower lip at the tone in his voice. She long since learned to stop arguing when he has decided. Saw is a raging inferno, engulfing everything and anything in his path. He would not hesitate to burn her to nothing if she got in the way of the cause. Rightly or wrongly this is the path he chose. A path Jyn must now accept. 

She finishes the new, bitter alcohol in one gulp. The thumping of her heart keeps a steady time to the beat of the music. Jyn cringes. A rather drunk patron makes a grab for a Twi’lek slave girl. Jyn reaches for her blaster as she she hears the woman shriek from an unwelcome fondling. 

“Don’t cause a scene!” Saw orders. Jyn’s mouth opens and snaps shut several times. Saw’s rough palm wraps over where hers lingers on the holster of her blaster. His touch is gentle and as warm as always. Jyn stills.

“They will pay, soon. Just wait.” He hisses. Jyn takes several breathes. She tries to block out the woman’s choked sobs and the rising chorus of jeers. These men, corrupt and high on power, will pay in blood as their justice rains upon them like the flames of hell. Soon but just not yet.  
The slow, melodic tune cuts off abruptly. The whole room goes silent. The slaves halt whatever menial tasks plagues them and snap to attention. 

The trumpet player lifts the instrument to his lips. Short bursts of sound punctuate the air as two slaves rush to push aside the embroidered canvas of the tent. Jabba the Hutt, in all his disgusting glory, enters balanced on a liter carried by at least six strapping slave. One slave walks next to the promenade completely unfettered. Jyn sucks in a breath. He’s beautiful. Golden brown skin covered in twinkling, glitter shimmers effervescently in the tent’s dim lighting. Jyn finds it hard to breathe as she takes in the contours of the slave’s abs and toned muscle of his back and thighs. Immediately, she is swamped with a wave of shame. Jyn is no different than the rest of the perverts here. In an instant, her lust had turned this man, this victim of one of the worst institutions in the galaxy, into her own fantasy. Jyn could not forget that he has no choice but to be here in this filth and forced to smile blithely at any passerby. (And, oh how seductive, his smile is.Jyn wonders what it would be like to have that smile only on her.) Jyn desperately wants another drink.

The promenade comes to a halt in front of their table. Saw relaxes but Jyn sees his hand wander to his weapon. Jabba the Hutt opens his cavernous mouth slime and mucus tongue poke out as guttural sounds penetrates the air. It takes a moment for Jyn to realize that the monstrous creature is speaking. 

“Master says that you are new faces to the establishment. Master wishes to welcome you.” The attractive man states. Jyn marvels at the slight lilt in his voice and the marvelous accent that rolls of his tongue. She can’t quite place it but she knows she’ll be hearing his voice in her most shameful of dreams. 

Saw stretches but makes no movement to stand. Jyn sits back into the plush velvet of the couch and fiddles with her empty cup. Jabba watches them expectantly but they make no real attempt to acknowledge him besides Saw’s nod to Jabba’s handsome, slave translator.

Jabba smacks his lips and let’s out several rumbling and gurgling punctuated noises. The look in those red eyes is not pleased. Jyn can’t help but feel a sharp sense of pride. 

“Master Jabba says it is polite to bow in his presence.” The man says. Jyn chances to look him in the eye. Jyn is not sure what she expected to see in those brown eyes, probably deference, maybe submissiveness, and definitely subjugation. Instead, reflected in dark, brown irises all Jyn can feel is fire that burns deep to her core. She swallows but no matter what her throat remains dry. 

“We come for business. There is no need for bowing in business.” Saw states.  
The man lifts an eyebrow. He growls and gurgles the messages to the Hutt who makes a response instantly. 

“Master says that business can only be conducted if there is mutual respect for trading partners and tradition.” The man emphasizes the last word. Still, there is something in his voice that makes Jyn think, maybe hope, that he is impressed. 

Jyn stands up and extends out her hand. “We are willing to shake hands with few but we shall never bow to anyone. Tell your Master, we come as equals and will remain so. If that is not possible then we will leave.” She states with finality. 

“The girl is impudent, Lord Jabba!Get rid of these upstarts!” Calls a rather drunk politician. The man leans close to the slug and whispers quickly. The Hutt stills. He gestures with his hand. The slave reaches behind him and pulls out a long pipe. Jabba purses his lips around the head of the pipe and sucks in a breath. Then, the creatures lets out a guttural guaf that spews smoke into the air like a desert geyser. In the smoke filled air, Jabba the Hutt lands his seedy red gaze right on her. The creature gurgles a single phrase. The translator is taken aback for a moment. He looks at his master, blinks once before bowing in assent. 

“My Master says that you may follow him to his private quarters. He will listen to your proposal there.” The man mutters. He worries his bottom lip before adding. “He will judge if your business proposal is worth your life .” 

Saw nods and glances at Jyn. “We have an agreement.” Jyn feels uncomfortable as she pushes her way from the coach to the back of the group. The procession begins moving. Jyn walks next to Saw but she never takes her eyes off that man. The slave is graceful in his movements but not necessarily seductive, his gait refined but he does not sway his hips like the other slaves nor does he slouch. He walks like a free man which is very dangerous, indeed. 

“You are of that age, I suppose.” Saw mutters through a cough. Jyn whips around to stare at her surrogate father, mouth agape. 

“What does that mean?” She sputters. 

“Well, I forget sometimes that you are a woman grown.” Saw deadpans. “He is attractive that one. A woman your age would have to be blind not to notice.”

Jyn can feel the flush of her skin from the tips of her ears to her cheeks. She gulps several times in flustered rebellion against Saw’s observations. Ashamed she decides to stare at the tile beneath her feet. 

“I apologize.”She mutters. Saw smirks ruefully. 

“I never faulted you for anything, my child. Just stay focused, we have a mission. Nothing can get in the way.” Saw says, the command and threat embedded deep in his tone. Jyn knows both well. Throughout her childhood, Saw was doting father, philosophical leader, and tyrannical enforcer. He loved her but he would always love the cause more. The cause will always come first. After all, Saw has made no attempt to rescue her other father, despite the fact Saw refers to him as the one of two loves of his life(her mother being the other). Jyn has no doubt he will let her die in front of him with tears in his eyes if it means securing this deal. He’d expect the same from her. 

“Don’t worry, we will not fail.” She states with conviction. Still, her eyes linger on that man. The one that wears the collar of a Hutt slave but carries himself like there is no man more free. Jyn doesn’t understand him and she shouldn’t care to, but her eyes can’t leave For a moment their eyes meet, he winks.


	2. Inside Corruption's Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn and Saw's meeting with Jabba the Hutt does not go as planned.

It turns out that Jabba’s private quarters is a palace built into a mountain. The stone citadel is teaming with slaves and droids carrying trays to and from the tent and the palace. The palace is fully decorated with exoctic beasts, dancing Twi’leks, jewels, and luxuries that leave Jyn’s mouth gaping. Saw elbows her in the side pointedly and she closes her mouth. Although, not before hearing Jabba’s translator chuckle. The slaves lower the giant slug onto a raised platform made of red velvet, hard steel, and shimmering gold. The Hutt pats the spot in front of him and the man bows politely before crawling on his knees to where Jabba gestured. The man’s half naked body curls up next to the monstrous slug. His fingers run along the skin of Jabba’s belly in a delicate sweeping motion. Jabba lets out a pleased gurgle before sliding a hand through the thick black strands of his slave’s head tugging just slightly causing the man to groan and smile. The display is intimate but also clearly for their benefit. Jyn twists her head away in disgust. A hot anger burns down her veins, lighting her cheeks with a furious red flush. She wants to shoot that giant slug right in the face. 

“Calm yourself, Jabba is trying to get a rise out of us.” Saw hisses through gritted teeth. “Do not give him the satisfaction.” 

Jyn takes in several unsteady breathes and grounds herself. A green Twi’lek with somber eyes places pillows on the floor for them to sit. 

Jyn helps Saw onto a cushion, knowing the process will be hard on Saw’s legs. He grits his teeth as he slowly lowers himself to seating position. A droid places a mat before them as several human slave children pile platters of food on top of it. They hand them much larger jugs of wine, each smiling eerily cracked tooth smiles. Jyn and Saw thank them all, even the droids which only earns them strange looks.   
“Lord Jabba says you do not need to thank the slaves. They will provide for guests as is their function.” The translator says over the din. His voice carries easily without yelling. Jyn looks at him as he lounges, spread out against Jabba’s body. The slug is now rubbing a hand on his waist right above the bronze bikini he wore but not near his naked thigh or long silk that covers his privates. The gorgeous man watches them with a hardened curiosity. The analytical gaze of soldier from the eyes of a pleasure slave. Jyn admits it is an uncanny feeling to be assessed under such a gaze. 

“If someone gives you something you give thanks. All the galaxy knows that.” She answers matter of factly. The man smiles at that comment before plastering his features into vague pleasantness. Still, Jyn got to see him genuinely smile and now her heart can’t stop thumping. The translator whispers into Jabba’s-is that an ear hole? Jyn stares at the slug as she tries to puzzle out it’s anatomy. 

Jabba claps his hands together. A line of Twi’lek dancers file in front of then. Saw’s fingers click irritability on his jacket. 

“Jabba, we did not come to be entertained.” He mutters harshly as the Twi’leks begin to juggle and twirl about like trapped butterflies in a jar. 

The slug laughs and claps as one Twi’lek flips over another. Her smile is a plastered mask that cracks when you see the fear in her eyes. The chains around their necks jangle in terrible sharp contrasts to the smooth, elegance of their movements. Jyn looks away at her plate. She can’t find it in herself to be even the slightest bit hungry. Still, she grabs some bread and chews without tasting.

“Jabba!” Saw repeats through gritted teeth. Orchestra members have set up in the back of the room to play an upbeat song, as if to drown out his protests. The Twi’leks begin bending and twisting their bodies in ways Jyn imagined should be impossible. 

Jabba has now begun eating what looks to be live frogs. He picks them up delicately from a large decorated, iron bowl that two young slave boys struggle to hold up to his gargantuan mouth. Jabba swallows the sorry creatures whole and alive. The pleasure slave seems to be attempting to maneuver himself away from his master. She watches as he almost manages scoot off the platform. Jabba grabs his slave’s chain and janks him back into his bulbous belly. Jabba kisses him fully with an open mouth. She watches the man swallow, and Jyn realizes that Jabba is actually feeding him much like a mother bird with her babies. The sight is too disturbing for Jyn so she jerks her head back to the Twi’lek performers. They are stacking themselves into some type of pyramid each wearing the same blank smile. 

Jabba says something. It takes a moment for his translator to swallow, what Jyn imagines must be the most disgusting ‘meal’ a human could digest, and interpret his words. 

“Lord Jabba says the night is still young and that he implores you to relax and enjoy the performances.” The man rasps out. He swallows, again, then hides a cringe with a pleasant smile. “He only becomes friendly with those who respect art.” 

“We did not come to make friends.” Saw mutters, completely ignoring the display before him to focus on the Hutt. 

“Business can only be conducted among friends. “ The translator mutters. He smiles as Jabba begins petting his hair while muttering into his ear. The man glances away from his master at Jyn, his lips move but there is no sound. Jyn focuses on the lip-movement, squinting her eyes but she’s not sure if she can make out what he’s trying to say. He tries again but the slug has pulled him into a kiss, and the moment is lost. 

The green Twi’lek, the one with somber eyes, attempts to flip from the peak of their body pyramid. Instead of a graceful landing, she careens head first into the stone floor. The chain around her neck is long enough to trap her right leg causing the flip to break wrong. None of her comrades move to help her, in fact, they try to move around her like nothing was wrong. Except for her feeble sobbing, one wouldn’t know one of their fellow performers was injured. 

Jyn jumps up quickly. She hops over plates and pushes past the other performers to the woman. Quickly, Jyn unwraps the scarf around her neck to dab the bloody wound on Twi’lek’s face. She applies pressure to the head wound. Her grey scarf becomes darker and darker by the second as the Twi’lek’s blood soaks through the light material.

“Are you alright?” Jyn asks. The woman attempts to stand, but her knees buckle from under her. Jyn catches her before she falls. “Hey! Just stay still you may have gotten a concussion! Is there a medical team or something?” Jyn wonders aloud. 

Jabba makes a command from upon his throne. Jyn glances at him and away from the task at hand. At first, she thinks the Hutt has called for someone to aid his dancer. The guards at the perimeter of the palace move inside, weapons drawn. 

“Please, don’t let them kill me.Please!” The Twi'lek slave pleads to Jyn. Her green body trembles as she reaches around Jyn’s waist. Jyn reaches for her blaster and places her body in between the woman and the guards. 

“Stay back!” Jyn shouts, blaster aimed right at them. The guards halt, unsure of what action to take.

Saw stands up in consternation. “Stand down, girl! Come back to your seat” He orders. There is a clear panic in Saw’s eyes. At this moment, Jyn is jeopardizing the whole mission for a lone slave girl. A part of Jyn wants to spring into action at his command. He is right, after all. Interfering with a slave’s execution would mean a definite no deal. Still, Jyn can feel this woman’s warmth at her back. This Twi’lek slave whose name she doesn’t even know is more real to Jyn than any vainglorious cause. She can’t abandon the weak to the corrupt power of the strong. Her parents had taught her that. 

“You always told me that the stand against evil must be uncompromising.” Jyn reminds her mentor. Saw looks conflicted. 

“I also said that we must pick our battles. Stand down, that’s an order!” Saw commands. There’s an unmistakable fire in his voice. Jyn flicks her head back to him then glances over her shoulder to the cowering Twi’lek praying and clinging to her back. She holsters her blaster but stays rooted in place. The air is tense as Jyn continues to stare down the guards. 

“Great and generous Lord Jabba, I plead with you to spare the life of your humble, faithful slave.” A voice cuts through the silence. The handsome translator prostrates himself before the giant slug. Jabba’s red eyes wander over to him from the scene playing out before him. The slug smacks his lips before grumbling something. He janks on the man’s chain in irritation. 

“Please, Lord Jabba! Spare the life of your poor incompetent slave.”He implores. He hugs the giant slug and Jyn watches as the monstrous Hutt seems to be weighing his options. The Hutt says nothing for awhile then flicks his tail sending his pleasure slave sailing off the platform. 

Jyn cringes and looks away. She does not want to see the result of soft flesh meeting stone at a high velocity. Instead of a tell-tale sickening ‘crunch’, there’s no sound at all. Somehow, the man has managed to roll before landing ensuring that he lands in a more protective fetal crouch. To the untrained eye, it would seem he had merely fallen, but Jyn knows that if gravity alone had a say he would have landed hard on his back. He stands shakily while taking practiced deep breathes. 

Jabba the Hutt roars in rage. A command, terrible and guttural whips out of his throat and settles ominously on the ears of even those that didn’t understand. 

“Of course, Lord Jabba, as you command.” The slave mutters with an efficient bow. His voice is a sweet mix of honey and death. For a moment, he looks more like an assassin than someone who sits and warms a slug all day. That moment passes. His body withers into something more cowed and submissive as if that previous confidence was a mere trick of the eyes.

As he moves towards her, Jyn is struck still. She wants to move or say something as he approaches but all that comes out is a pathetic squeak. He’s too gorgeous up close.

“Honored guest, the great Lord Jabba has ordered me to provide the rest of the evening's entertainment. If you could please take a seat.” He says smooth politeness, hinting nothing of his true feelings. 

The Twi’lek woman steps from behind Jyn cautiously. “Ismterr, you don’t have to do this for me.” She whispers. 

Jyn breathes. ‘Ismterr’, his name is Ismterr. A name that is not particularly interesting nor nice sounding, but because it’s his name then it is the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard. Jyn wants to say it aloud just so she can run the letters across her teeth. Just so he would look at her when she says it. This feeling in her stomach that coils hot and dangerous at the mere thought of him, scares her terribly. For a long time there has only been three things on her mind: destruction of the Empire, saving her father, and making Saw proud. Now, there’s Ismterr. His presence is a golden blaze deep into the pits of her that threatens to burn up everything else. She wants him. That fact scares her more than anything. 

“Oola, I’ll be fine.” Ismterr tells the Twi’lek woman. He moves forward to place their foreheads together in a moment of silence. Oola cries softly before pulling back with a stiff nod. 

“I’ll dance while you play.I mean to add t-to the show.” She stutters. “I’m sure that our honorable guests will like it.” Oola turns to Jyn and softly smiles through her tears. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. I mean that was quite the fall back there.” Jyn reminds. “She needs medical attention.” Jyn says to Ismterr. He regards her carefully. Then shakes his head. 

“Honored guest, we thank you for your concern. However, the best thing to do now is to enjoy the performance.” That’s a dismissal if ever she heard one. 

Jyn realizes to him she must not be all that different than Jabba. Any help she’s willing to give is already tainted by the fact that she is here to make a deal with the very creature that holds him in bondage. No slave here has any reason to trust her. Jyn has never hated herself, but right now, she just might. 

Jyn stares at the stone floor. Embarrassment and shame stain her skin with a red flush from her cheeks to her ears. She scuttles back to her seat. Saw glares at her. 

“We will have words, child.” Saw hisses under his breath. He hugs her close pressing her into his chest. He grabs a jug of wine and practically forces the jug’s lids through the wall of her teeth to her tongue. Jyn swallows and swallows the red liquid until she feels like sputtering. Saw is trying to incapacitate her, if not that, at the very least punish her. Jyn pounds on his chest for a minute as the wine keeps surging down her throat. Finally, Saw let’s her go. 

“I’m sorry,”Jyn sputters. “I won’t fail you. I won’t fail you.” 

Saw doesn’t even look at her. The expression on his face is unmelting ice. Jyn has acted on her own and didn’t obey a direct order. If she was any other soldier, he would have ended her without a second thought. However, Jyn isn’t just Saw’s foot-soldier, she is his daughter(not by blood but through love). Thus, her disobedience is worse than the most bitter of betrayals. Jyn reaches for him to just get Saw to look at her but he knocks her hand away. 

“Enough of your blubbering! Now, watch this silly charade that you insisted upon participating it.” Saw states with finality. Jyn forces her eyes away from him to the center stage. She gulps down a phlegm of disappointment in her throat. 

Jyn locks eyes with the pleasure slave. He had been watching the interaction between her and Saw. Ismterr looks away when her eyes meets his gaze. Still, Jyn had felt something like anger in his gaze.

A member of the orchestra hands Ismterr an old, decorated guitar. They whisper something in his ear that only causes him to shrug and sadly smile. The orchestra member pats his shoulder and quickly sits back down in defeat. The other Twi’lek performers file off to where she and Saw sit. A few glance at her with eyes full of subtle admiration. They quickly look away when they see she’s noticed them. 

Ismterr sits cross legged on the cold white stone. He strums a few chords with practiced strokes as his fingers move deftly over the guitars strings. He holds the instrument with more reverence than he touched Jabba with. Jyn can’t take her eyes off of him. 

Ismterr stops strumming. Oola gets down on her knees next to him. She takes deep breaths that start and stop as she centers herself. Blood still dribbles down the Twi’lek’s brow, she continues to try to wipe it off. 

Jabba growls. Ismterr looks at him with a pleasant smile. “Yes, my Lord, right away!” He calls sweetly. He nods at Oola who stands up. She stands lone and strong as if she hadn’t just suffered a head wound. 

Ismterr begins to play. His fingers caress and slide down the guitar’s strings producing a delicious, deep melody. The music winds around the listener’s soul dragging them with it by the plucking of each note.

Then, Oola begins to stomp in a bass counterpoint to the guitars sweeping harmonic progressions. Her body twists and spins as her hand clap wildly above her head. The dancer is a tempest moving and undulating to the rhythm. All of the room is steadily becoming transfixed with the performance. Ismterr opens his mouth and begins to sing. 

His voice drifts along the room with a whimsical tone despite an unending melancholy. Jyn finds herself sinking into his words. She doesn’t understand the language that falls from his tongue but the emotions in his voice tears at her heart. Loneliness, fatalism, mixed with a desperate hope that feels so out of place in this day and age. 

The song reminds her of her parents. Her mother’s smille, her mother’s death, her father’s warm hugs along with the tears on his face as he watched her run. Losing allies and friends again and again all while hoping that their sacrifice will mean anything at all. The fatal knowledge of knowing she will become one of those nameless martyrs one day buried under either as another stone in the empire’s path or as a foundation to future freedom. Either way, Jyn wouldn’t be around to see it. There’s a macabre peace in that. Jyn realizes she’s crying as emotions long repressed well up and overcome her. She glances at Saw and sees he is crying too. In fact, the whole room seems to be weeping for their own reasons.   
Oola gracefully crumples to the floor as Ismterr’s voice lingers in a haunting vibrato. The room is still as the performance ends. No one moves not even to breathe. Then, the room is filled with applause. Jabba the Hutt’s belly moves with the force of his applause. As if on cue, the slave clap to a thunderous ovation that even Jyn stands up her. 

She watches as the crowd’s reaction washes over the performers. Oola beams a true triumphant smile. Ismterr stares straight at Jyn. His gaze is not one of victory but of caution and understanding. There is no shock on his face when Jabba shouts an eerily familiar guttural order. Ismterr just sighs and puts down the guitar as armed guards rush the stage. 

Jyn hops to attention, ready to fire her blaster but- the world goes dark with a pinch to the nerve in the back of her neck. Jyn can feel her body dropping as her knees give out from her weight. The last thing she hears is Oola’s shrill screaming. “We did what you ask, Lord Jabba! We did what you ask!” 

As Jyn’s eyes fall closed. Her mind moves back to the moment that Ismterr mouthed something to her. In the moment, the message didn’t make sense; obscured by the rush of adrenaline and anxiety. Now, his words appear crystal clear in her mind. 

Nothing in this galaxy is fair.


	3. All the Versions of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn deals with her role as a solider of revolution. At the same time, she makes an unbreakable promise to Oola.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is violence in this chapter be advised.

Jyn feels the angry sting of Saw’s belt as it lands harsh and sharp on the skin of her back. She sucks in a breath as wet tears well up.

“Do not scream, child. You know that all punishments I give are-” Saw pauses for a moment letting her answer.

“Deserved.” Jyn states as the metal belt whips down on her already taught skin with a discenerbile crack. Jyn’s whole body jumps on contact.

“That’s correct. You could have ruined us,my daughter, you might still have.” Saw whispers. Jyn realizes that this pains Saw as much as it does her. He never called her daughter except in disappointment. ‘Daughter’ is an admission of vulnerability and love both deadly to feel for anyone in this galaxy but particularly for him. Yet, Saw, one of the most ruthless men in the galaxy, admits she makes him vulnerable because he loves her. Well, not just her, but all she represents. Jyn does feel tears run down her cheeks. Still, she keeps her gasps of pain both physical and emotional to herself by swallowing every sound that threatens to break through her lips. For a moment, she hates Saw for making her bear the weight of both the cause and his love. The weight of him is almost more than she can bear. Sometimes Jyn can’t tell the difference between his earnest affection and the pain of each punishment. The bruises on her back are starting to feel the same as his hugs: wonderful and suffocating. 

The metal point of the belt falls down one last time on her back leaving a scathing, stinging red welt on her skin.

“Think of what you’ve done.” Saw mutters so soft that she strains to hear. “Go take a bath.”

Jyn rises, one unsteady foot at a time. She turns to look at her father, her leader; and sees a man broken. Saw is heaving from exertion. He looks away from her gaze.

“My parents would help these people not do deals with the creature that holds sentient beings in bondage.” She says into the hot darkness. Saw whips his head up to glare at her. For the first time, she’s on the other end of that wrathful gaze. In those eyes, she sees Saw’s unending justice fueled by a rage that will never be quenched and an endless chasm of pain. Jyn doesn’t look away.

“Not another word or all the love I bear for them won’t save you from me.” Saw growls. “Do you know that it is that weakness that killed them?”

“My father’s not dead!” She yells into the murky, heated silence. Saw closes his eyes.

“He is as good as dead, Jyn. It is best if you come to terms with that.” Saw mutters. He sounds so old and vanquished. Jyn can’t think of anything more pathetic.

Coward, she wants to say. Still, Saw is right. Her father is so far behind enemy lines that retrieval may be impossible. But...but…

“He’s not dead.” Jyn repeats as her body trembles with the sheer strength of her conviction. “He isn’t dead.”

Saw shakes his head. “Go take a bath, child. You need the rest. I can’t have my best soldier acting on emotion.” He says.

Jyn jerks herself into a salute. She grabs the first shirt that she spots, not caring if the clothing belonged to her or Saw.

Jabba’s palace feels a bit like a labyrinth. She doesn’t know how many times she wanders past the same few stone statues. Jyn stops in her tracks as she hears something. A sound like sniffling or crying, she’s not exactly sure, echoes down the empty corridor.Jyn grabs her blaster and aims towards the ground as she goes into a defensive position. Slowly, she inches along the smooth, white limestone towards the source of the sound.

Oola, the Twi’lek, lies inside a cage. Her blood pools around her as her open bruises seep out puss and pain. They’d beaten her to death’s door. There are no guards to her tiny prison. Clearly, Jabba doesn’t particularly care if she lives or dies. Escape does not even seem to cross the slug’s mind. Jyn pockets her gun and moves into the room noting the lack of cameras. 

“Hello, it’s Oola, right?” Jyn asks as she crouches down besides the bars.The bars glow and radiate fluorescent green at her presence a sign of some type of alarm that would most likely be tripped by touch. The Twi’lek stops sobbing to look at her. 

“Honorable guest! You can’t be here. They’ll hurt you.” Oola says between bloody coughs. 

Jyn shakes her head. “Hang on ! I’ll get you out.” Jyn maneuvers her blaster to shoot at the computerized lock. 

“Don’t! Master will know if the lock was tampered with. Besides, I couldn’t run far even if you did.”Oola mutters before glancing at her legs. Jyn follows her gaze back to a white sheet wrapped around the Twi’lek’s bottom half. The woman grunts as she shifted the sheet from around her legs. Jyn gasps and cringes at the sight of the other woman’s bloody, bruised, and mangled legs. She would never dance again. That’s an injustice all on its own.

“Force…” Jyn gasps out. “I don’t understand. We liked the performance why did Jabba punish you?” 

“No, no,no. Lord Jabba is so kind to have let me live. Please...please...don’t tell him I complained-if he knows I complained he’ll sell me to someone even worse. Please!” Oola begs. 

“He’s selling you, but who would buy an injured-” Jyn cuts herself off midmusing.There is only one group of people that would purchase an injured Twi’lek,-”some really fucked up perverts.” 

Oola nods. “Better than death.” 

“Is it?” Jyn asks. 

“No, not really.” Oola mutters. She shrugs then cringes in pain. “To be sold is my life, I suppose it will be my death, too.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jyn whispers. She means it. This situation is impossible. If she attempts to help Oola for a second time then the deal will be off and Saw would kill her. Freeing Oola appears to be an act of futility, anyway. Jyn clenches her fist so tight that her nails bites harshly into the white meaty part of her palm. “There must be something I can do.”

Oola smiles softly in the harsh light. Her green face is contorted by bruises and a broken lip, but there’s a strange serenity in her eyes. An acceptance that Jyn has seen time and again in the eyes of the dead.

“Honorable guest-no-what’s your name?” Oola asks. Her voice is harsh with a new type of honesty. Gone is the tone of sultry submission, now there’s a raw scratch of emotion in the pitch. Oola has only spoken to one other person like this and he is laying next to their shared tormenter. 

“Jyn.” Jyn doesn’t say her last name. 

“Jyn,” Oola says her name like it’s something sacred. Jyn is used to being thought of as a terrorist or a troublemaker but never a hero. “Please save Ismterr.” 

Alarm runs cold and burning down Jyn’s vein. “Is he alright? He’s not-” Jyn cuts herself off because she realizes that she cares far too much about the mere idea of him being harmed. Jyn attempts to flatten her facial expressions. She is sure by the amused smirk on Oola’s face that she failed. 

“He is fine, for now. Jabba does not like doing too much damage to his pets until it is time to discard them.” Oola mutters bitterly. 

“Then, why do you want to help him?” Jyn questions. Oola glances past her as if she’s trying to find an answer in the pristine marble. The Twi’lek opens her mouth but her tongue stops the words from coming out. Finally, Oola swallows and says.

“Because I love him.” 

Jyn flinches as that statement slaps her in the face. Suddenly, she’s assessing Oola differently. The Twi’lek has a far better body then her, lithe and curvy at the same time. Jyn could never compare. Embarrassment and shame stop that thought process in its tracks. How pathetic is she that she’s jealous of an injured, dying woman? Still, the emotion sits in the pit of her stomach like a burning ember. 

“Ismterr is not like any slave I’ve ever met. He makes me feel like there is more than this even though this life is all he’s ever known too.” Oola continues heedlessly. Jyn frowns at that. Ismterr appears to be an enigma even to those who know him.

“Jabba is not a good master. He will break him, maybe not today or months from now, but Jabba will never keep a favorite forever.” Oola explains with a rueful, embittered smile. “Even if my love is never reciprocated I can’t let him end up like me.” 

Jyn hates the part of her heart that jumped at the phrase ‘never reciprocated’. “I don’t know what I can do.” She mutters into the tile floor. Oola groans. 

“Buy him,” The Twi’lek says softly.

“I’m not a slaver!” Jyn gasps out incredulously. 

“Please,” Oola begs. Fierce, desperate golden eyes sear into Jyn’s soul with a passion that burrows deep into the recesses of her heart. Jyn remembers this same gaze on her back as she ran from Imperial soldiers. Had her father not placed all his hope in the last of his loves to protect her? Oola must have it even harder than him. She has to depend on a stranger. 

Jyn gulps down the cool air and closes her eyes. “Alright.” 

“Promise me, by your Force and my Goddess, that you will take him from this place.” Oola mutters. 

Jyn bites her bottom lip. She presses a hand over her heart. “I won’t swear on any entity that I can’t say for sure to be real. However, I swear on the lives of both my fathers that I will free him from bondage to Jabba.” Jyn promises. As soon as the words fall from her tongue, she knows she must now follow through or die trying. The galaxy has very few laws but certain promises are unbreakable. 

The sound of voices bounce off the stony walls of the outside corridor. Both women snap their heads in the direction of the sound. Anxious hearts beat in a terrible unison as the sound slowly drifts in the opposite direction. 

“I have to go.” Jyn mutters.  
“Thank you for everything. You are too kind for this galaxy.” Oola states back. Jyn’s body goes stiff and her facial expression twists into a grimace. 

“I’m not kind.” Jyn has far too much blood on her hands to be called that.   
“You are or else you wouldn’t help a stranger and a slave.” Oola whispers like she finds Jyn to be both frightfully strange and miraculous at the same time. 

“It’s not that. You just remind me of my father. This-” Jyn mutters as she gestures between the both of them. “-is just nostalgic selfishness.” 

Oola chuckles softly. “Goddess, you two really are alike.”   
A question dawns in Oola’s eyes. “The man you were with isn’t your father?”   
Jyn purses her lips. “He is. I’m talking about the other one that’s being held by the Empire as a scientist, being forced to build their weapons.” 

Oola frowns. “I’m sorry.” 

Jyn kicks at the stone floor and sighs. She tilts her head to the ceiling with a click of her tongue.   
“I really shouldn’t of told you all of that.” Jyn mutters. ”One more question, is there anyway to get a visual on guards movements?” 

She unclips an individual ion disruptor from her belt. It’s a tiny little thing no bigger than an ordinary keychain but is loaded full of enough electrical power that Jyn can feel the weight of it in her palm. The freedom fighter tilts her head in contemplation. Her eyebrows furrow as she mentally calculates the cage’s forcefield strength and the ion strength needed to increase the force field’s power but not destroy the shield entirely. 

“45, extra-strength, that should do.” Jyn muses as she her fingers dance across the ion disruptor’s smooth cylindrical surface. 

“Ummm...I think each guard has a key to the security server that maps out each of their designated paths. I’m not sure though... Jyn, you don’t have to worry. To thank you for all you’ve done for me, I’ll gladly take any of your secrets to the grave!” Oola insists. 

Jyn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens her eyes again, a terrible calm washes over her.   
“Yeah, I guess you will.”

Jyn tosses the ion disruptor at Oola’s cage. Oola’s mouth drops open. A dawning horror alights in her eyes replacing her previous innocent adoration. Jyn cringes and looks way. The disruptor hits the cage’s field in a collision of light and an audible crack. Oola’s body jolts and trembles, but Jyn knows better than to think she’s alive. Still, she stays until the last of Oola’s limbs stops vibrating. 

“I will keep my promise.” Jyn vows to the dead woman through her tears.   
The noise was bound to draw some guards. That’s exactly what she wants. 

Jyn hops to the door frame. Her spine straightens harsh and rigid as her breath comes out in fast burst. Her heartbeat is a roar in her chest. Jyn feels herself calm down as a guard turns the corner and their footsteps get closer and closer. A calm violence sears down her veins invading her blood with a dispassionate certainty. 

“Who’s there?” The guard asks as he cautiously enters the room. Jyn jolts out from behind him. Her arms form a cage around his skull as she manuvers her legs around his chest squeezing hard like a vice. He tries to buck her off. He must be a recent hire because instead of reaching for his blaster immediately; he flails and jerks about frantically. Jyn decides to end this mercifully quick. Sure, steady hands twist his neck without hesitation. 

The body falls forward and she had to maneuver in such a way that she could manage to catch the corpse before his face collided with the ground. Frantic, Jyn’s hands run over the guard’s uniform searching, searching, until… Jyn spots a bracelet around his wrist. 

“That’s got to be it.” She mutters. A grateful sigh escapes her lips as the thing just unlatches. She didn’t want to do something as unsavory hacking off the hand. She would’ve done it but she wouldn’t of liked it. 

Jyn places the wristband in her cargo pant’s pocket. She pauses. A room with two bodies would look suspicious to anyone. Jabba hadn’t bothered to bug the room because Oola had been that much of a nonentity to him. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t care about her unexpected demise especially with a dead guard right next to her. Jyn sucks in a breath. 

She needs to create a plausible scenario or at least one so fantastic that the rumors would matter more than the reality. Jyn shifts. This would be hard. She wipes blandly at her cheeks but the tears just won’t stop flowing.


End file.
